


Boom

by yeaka



Series: Yutopian Zoo [21]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Yuuri’s rut hits.





	Boom

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set in the same partial-animal AU as some of my other ficlets, but it’s stand-alone and you don’t need to read them for this. (Long story short, human!Victor bought serow!Yuuri from the zoo, and they’re babysitting cat!Chris.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Now that it’s _close_ , Yuuri doesn’t stray far from Victor’s cabin. He picks his way around the side, nibbling here and there at what few leaves have missed the snowfall. They’re fresh and crisp, pleasantly cool across his tongue. He finishes with one tree and winds his way to another, but only makes it two steps before he doubles over. 

For one dizzying second, Yuuri doesn’t know what’s happening. _Pain’s_ lanced through him, and a hot, wet heat is cloying at his body. He rips at the wooly sweater he’s wearing—one of _Victor’s_ , and the scent of it nearly overwhelms him. Yuuri totters in the snow, heart hammering in his chest, knees weak and mind babbling: _Victor, Victor, Victor._

It takes some effort to push himself back to his feet, but as it came, it goes, ebbing out into a more manageable fire. He takes the steps of the porch one by one, one hand against the wooden siding of the house as he nears the glass door. His body moves almost entirely on instinct, seeking out the nearest conquest: the _only_ one he wants. The only one he can reach. Except, perhaps, for one stray cat, but that won’t do at all—he just wants his _Victor_. He reaches the door and claws at the handle, but it doesn’t move, and in his fevered haze, he can’t remember how it works. He paws at it uselessly, utterly distraught, but it defies him.

A figure stirs on the other side. Through the polished surface he can see Victor rising off the couch, frowning, and hurrying over, leaving Chris alone. As soon as Victor’s reached the door, he’s jerking it open, and Yuuri barrels right into the warm air. He all but flies into Victor’s arm. He whines loudly, both in relief and desperation, and nuzzles into Victor’s throat while Victor tries to close the door again behind him. Yuuri doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care who comes by and sees. He just wants Victor to be _his_ , and _now_.

“Yuuri,” Victor soothes, one hand coming to brush back Yuuri’s hair. The other wraps around his waist, holding him steady, holding him up. Victor’s suddenly the most stable thing Yuuri’s ever known: something he can lean against no matter what. At the zoo, whenever his rut hit, Phichit would immediately shuffle him off to isolation. He’d feel so _safe_ knowing that Phichit had his back. But Victor’s ten times that, because Victor won’t just leave him, sad and alone, but _be with him_ like Yuuri so badly wants. Like they already often are. But all the time. At least a month. Maybe two. Yuuri wants to be tied to Victor every second of every day. 

Victor tries to move him, guiding him back towards the living room, but Yuuri can’t walk. He stumbles along, his hands roaming Victor’s body, his eyes everywhere—Victor’s so _beautiful_. He’s the most handsome human Yuuri’s ever seen, and Yuuri was in a _zoo_ —he saw all sorts of people. Other serows, the handlers, even guests—he could’ve had any of them with him in isolation: all he had to do was say the word and spread his legs. But Victor’s the only one that Yuuri’s ever wanted. Yuuri grabs at Victor’s collar and tries to give Victor a big kiss, full of tongue, but Victor pulls away. Yuuri whines, nuzzling harder into him, but Victor just chuckles, “Not yet, love,” and keeps him moving.

Halfway across the living room, Yuuri’s knees give out. Victor falls with him, catching him, and Yuuri springs back to life, trying to climb onto Victor’s back—he’s never wanted to mount someone so much in his life. But Victor just mutters something in lilting Russian and maneuvers Yuuri back. Then he bends and scoops Yuuri up beneath the knees, hiking Yuuri up into his arms. Yuuri latches onto Victor’s neck for support and lets Victor carry him.

Slow and steady, Victor takes him up the stairs. Their loft looks the same as it always does, and yet so much _cozier_ —this is Yuuri’s territory. He’s already marked it: rubbed his scent glands liberally against the bedposts and all around the walls. The place reeks of him. Victor has never seemed to mind. In the wild, serows are often solitary, and one male wouldn’t wander into another’s territory, but with Victor...

Victor walks right past the wards to set Yuuri on the bed. Yuuri doesn’t want to go, but Victor guides him back, crawling onto the mattress too and staying over Yuuri. He hikes Yuuri up, dragging Yuuri’s body across the thick blankets until his head’s lying in the pillows. 

Immediately, Yuuri’s hands are on Victor’s body again. He tugs at Victor’s clothes, whimpering over the buttons and just wanting them _gone_ , but he doesn’t have the dexterity now to deal with human things. Victor smiles and helps, stripping slowly out of his own shirt, then tossing it aside. Yuuri grins at the wide expanse of creamy skin that Victor gives him. He spreads his fingers across Victor’s stomach and runs them up Victor’s chest, rubbing and squeezing, delighting in every little touch, while Victor starts unbuttoning his pants. 

Before he pushes them down, Victor asks, “Are you sure you want this, Yuuri?” 

His blue eyes seem to say that he knows the answer. Yuuri breathes, “ _Yes_ ,” and traces down the severe jut of Victor’s hips. Victor’s slender frame is full of gentle curves and sharp angles, perfectly toned and wondrously fit, all well used from his skating. Yuuri doesn’t know if his body’s half so pleasing—he’s softer, he thinks, with a bigger stomach, but at the moment, he can’t care. Everything in his body screams at him to _mate_ , and he plans to.

When Victor rises up on his knees, Yuuri’s hands fly to Victor’s thighs, but Victor brushes them away. He starts pushing down his pants, taking his boxers with them—underwear’s something Yuuri’s never understood. But he’s glad to see it gone. He eyes the silver trail below Victor’s navel, and then the base of Victor’s cock, and then the entire thing when it’s revealed—the pants push down far enough for the shaft to spring free, the flushed head arching towards Yuuri. Yuri moans and writhes in place, mouth already watering. Victor doesn’t waste time pushing his pants off the rest of the way.

They go the same way as his shirt, leaving him gloriously naked: perfect body all on display for Yuuri’s hungry eyes. Yuuri hardly notices Victor rolling up his own sweater—the only clothing on Yuuri’s body. But then Victor’s ordering, “Lift your arms,” and Yuuri obeys. Victor shuffles the sweater over his head, discarding it, and just like that, they’re both bare the way they were meant to be. Just how they would be in the wild. Yuuri thinks that even if Victor were another serow, Yuuri would dare venture into his territory just for a chance to mount him, or maybe be mounted in return.

As soon as Victor’s leaning down, Yuuri’s lifting up. He rocks into Victor, drawing a groan out of each of them, and he deliberately rubs his body over Victor’s, marveling over every little touch of skin-on-skin. He moans Victor’s name repeatedly, broken and begging—it’s all he can say. Phichit told him that he used to moan Victor’s name at the zoo, back when Yuuri was an exhibit and Victor just a patron. And he longed for _this_ —he remembers that: the lust, the _want_ , the feelings. Victor presses a kiss against his cheek and squirms over to the nightstand.

Yuuri doesn’t understand what Victor’s doing, and he doesn’t care. In his peripherals, he can vaguely see Victor fishing something out of a drawer. His hands are busy with it, and Yuuri uses the time to crawl out from under Victor. Victor gives him a questioning look but lets him go. When Victor tries to roll over to follow, Yuuri stops him. He keeps Victor in place—face down on the mattress, up on hands and knees—and rears up over him, mounting him _properly_. For all the other times they’ve touched and kissed and held one another, they haven’t yet done _this_ , and Yuuri _wanted it so badly._ He fits himself right into place, draped over Victor’s warm back with his thighs spread around Victor’s legs, his arms even overlapping Victor’s. Then he needs a second just to soak it in. This is what he dreams of.

When he bucks his hips into Victor, ready to _start_ , Victor grunts, “Wait.” Yuuri whines. He can barely understand, but the word is simple, and Victor’s tone is a curt order: one that Yuuri listens to. Phichit always said he was one of the easy ones, even during rut. So he tries. He stays in place, quivering, his cock so hard that it’s almost painful. It’s already flush with Victor’s rear, pressed into his taut cheeks. Yuuri can’t help himself; he rubs his shaft along Victor’s crack. He’s already leaking profusely, and it dribbles over Victor’s skin, wetting him up. Yuuri shallowly humps Victor until something brushes against his balls, and he pulls back enough to peer below. He spots Victor’s fingers busily at work, stuffed inside his asshole. Yuuri _stares_ at the way his long digits scissor his pink ring open, wider and wider, slick with Yuuri’s precum and something else. It’s all Yuuri can do not to salivate all over Victor’s ass and add that to the mix.

It takes a few torturous minutes, during which Yuuri watches Victor’s ass and humps the mattress, until Victor slowly pulls his fingers out and tells Yuuri, “Do it.” Yuuri doesn’t need telling twice.

He’s mounted Victor again in a heartbeat, lined himself up with Victor’s hole, and thrust inside all at once—with perfect aim, he slides home, and the sweltering heat that meets him makes him toss his head back to cry. Victor makes a similar noise that’s lost under Yuuri’s ardour. Yuuri tries to shove forward more, but Victor’s tight and tenses up around him, so Yuuri has to whimper and withdraw, working in with little thrusts that push him deeper every time. Victor trembles under him with every one—Yuuri can feel every wicked shiver that wracks through Victor’s body. He arches down into Victor and rubs them together all the more. He drags his pebbled nipples against Victor’s shoulder blades and molds his stomach to the dip in Victor’s spine. He hooks his head over Victor’s shoulder and kisses and licks and nips at Victor’s cheek, wishing he could reach Victor’s tempting mouth. Victor tries to twist back to meet him, but they can barely manage one kiss at a time. And Yuuri won’t stop long enough to fix their angle. He keeps going until he’s fully embedded in Victor’s ass, stuffed all the way up Victor’s channel, buried right to the balls. Then he grinds himself inside and moans at how damn _good_ it feels: Victor is his everything.

Victor is utter ecstasy. Yuuri savours every piece of it: every ripple, every pulse, every squeeze that Victor gives him. He wants to pet Victor’s stomach and tell Victor to relax, but he doesn’t have the wherewithal. Instead, he babbles into Victor’s ear, “So good, Victor—you feel so—ahh!” When he pulls out to push in, his own scream cuts him off. He does it again anyway, and again, rocking into Victor with increasing fervor. And he groans over Victor’s shoulder, “Mmnh, Victor, _I want to breed you so bad_...” 

Distantly, he knows he can’t. They’re different species, and Victor’s biology isn’t right for it, but Yuuri loves him anyway. So, so much. Yuuri nuzzles into Victor’s shoulder, wrapping one arm around Victor’s middle and supporting himself all on the other one—and on Victor. But Victor stays up on all fours, holding strong for him: the perfect mount. Victor makes noises too—mostly moans, a few gasps, and cries when Yuuri stabs too hard, and then a few things in Russian that Yuuri doesn’t catch. Lots of Yuuri’s name. Yuuri repeats Victor’s too. The loft echoes the rhythmic sounds of their lovemaking, the slap of flesh-on-flesh just as loud as any of it. The stench of _sex_ , of Yuuri’s sweat and scent glands, already permeates the air. He wants _more_. He wants to be buried deep in Victor for as long as he can.

He doesn’t have the stamina for that. But he does have greater stamina than most—Phichit once told him he lasted twice as long as the other buck. That’s good: more for Victor. Yuuri mouths at Victor’s face while he wonders how long Victor can go—how much Yuuri can fuck him, how often, hopefully forever. It reminds Yuuri of Victor’s gorgeous cock, and he snakes his hand down Victor’s stomach, right through the coarse hair to Victor’s bouncing cock. It slaps against Yuuri’s hand in time with his thrusts, until he wraps his fingers around it and pumps it straight down. Victor makes a choking noise, his hips stuttering forward into Yuuri’s grip, though Yuuri quickly reins them back into the proper tempo. Yuuri pumps Victor the way he knows that Victor likes, slick with sweat and precum, to their wild beat. 

Yuuri fucks Victor for what seems a small eternity: a _wondrous_ one, and he wants to keep going, on and on, except that Victor arches and _screams_. His ass suddenly clenches down, making Yuuri see stars and nearly whiteout from sheer _pleasure_. Victor’s cock twitches in his hands, and then it’s overflowing, slicking over Yuuri’s hand and splattering the sheets. Yuuri keeps pumping. 

He keeps shoving his cock down Victor’s hole. Victor’s scream eventually fades into a ragged moan. Yuuri fucks him right through it anyway, and now Yuuri has to hold him up, because he trembles and slumps. Yuuri growls, reaching under to shove Victor back into place. Victor groans but obeys, staying up on all fours like a good mate, and making it easy for Yuuri to keep filling up his ass. Yuuri wants to drown it in seed. He wants to bathe Victor in all his different juices, wants Victor sticky and wet and branded with Yuuri’s mark. That thought makes it swell, but Victor’s final, panted, “ _Yuuri_ ,” is what really does him in.

He comes with a roar, and his hips pick up the pace, fucking Victor twice as hard as he bursts inside Victor’s body. His cock immediately pounds it home, every last drip and drop that he pours into Victor’s channel. Yuuri can’t think of anything but that: he’s become a feral animal whose entire purpose is breeding his mate. _Victor_. He pumps Victor full of seed, over and over, until he’s so spent that he can’t see straight. He totters in place, having lost the strength to stay up, and finally, slumps over Victor’s back.

Victor immediately collapses to the mattress. It’s a soft landing, and Yuuri stays glued to Victor’s body, both of them glowing red and moist. It takes a second for Yuuri to gain any strength at all. Then he channels what he has into nuzzling against Victor’s pretty face. He can’t stop smiling. Even in the afterglow, his cock doesn’t entirely flag, and his skin still buzzes with the want for contact. He drags himself slowly against Victor’s body, mewling. He _loves Victor so much._

Victor makes a groaning noise. It takes a few blissful minutes of hazy cuddling, and then Victor shifts, finally moving again. He worms his way out from under Yuuri, which makes Yuuri whine in distress, but Victor kisses his worries away and straightens out beside Yuuri. Victor runs his hands back through Yuuri’s hair, petting him softly, and promises, “I’ll be right back, okay, love? I’m just going to get the water bottles and leaves I had prepared for you.”

Yuuri only semi understands. Then a new thought hits him, and he whimpers, “Chris will see you naked.” Which shouldn’t mean anything—wouldn’t to serows—but _does_ to humans. Victor just chuckles. 

He bends down to kiss Yuuri’s forehead and purrs, “But I’ll come back to _you_.”

That’s true, and Yuuri knows it. Besides—Victor reeks of him: no hybrid could miss it. Victor’s still full of his seed. And he trusts his Victor. He finally whimpers, “Okay.” He can survive a few minutes without Victor. He survived forever without Victor before.

But that was before he knew this happiness, so he hopes Victor hurries back. Victor pets him one more time, then gets up to go.

In Victor’s absence, Yuuri follows his nose. He reaches over the side of the bed to find the pile of clothes that Victor shed, and he drags them back up into his arms. Then he curls around them, deeply inhales Victor’s sent, and waits for his mate’s return.


End file.
